Chess Master
by bat ops
Summary: Bruce orchestrates an elaborate weeklong chess tournament plan to expose a modern day criminal secret society influencing world events.


Chess Master

Batman

1

International Chess Tournament – Day 1 of 7

Gotham City Royal Hotel; City of Gotham

"I must say, Bruce, you went to great lengths to make this tournament happen."

The speaker, seated across from Bruce Anthony Wayne at the far end of the long table, was Russian political science professor and chess grandmaster Vladimir Andreievich Orazbeyeva. Together, and alone, minus Alfred's periodic intrusions to perform various butler functions, this was their dinnertime.

Bruce, currently partaking of his fancy soup, shrugged. "What can I say, Vladimir, I'm a man of means."

Orazbeyeva chuckled and nodded. "Indeed you are, Bruce. Indeed you are. And you're not afraid to flaunt it, along with your playboy nature."

"If you can't enjoy the pleasures of life then what's the point of living?"

"True, but let's be honest, you're not exactly a humble man, are you?"

"Humility is for the saints, Vladimir. I'm a Wayne, not a saint."

Orazbeyeva chuckled again and raised his glass of expensive wine. "I can appreciate that."

Bruce similarly raised his glass. They then sipped from their glass at the same time in the quasi-toast gesture and returned to their fine dining.

"Was it your ego too that prompted you to not only host but enter this tournament as well?" Orazbeyeva wondered.

"In a way. You have to admit though; I've done well so far."

"Indeed you have. Since you entered the chess player realm six months ago you have clearly demonstrated how analytical and strategic a mind you truly possess. As such, you remain undefeated against the world's best. It has truly thrown off your critics."

"Yes, and now here we are – about to do battle."

Orazbeyeva and Bruce locked gazes.

"Quite true. Our game shall indeed constitute the main event for this tournament, shall it not?"

Bruce nodded. "It shall. And to be blunt, Vladimir, when I kick your ass you'll stick to poli-sci from then on and nothing else."

Orazbeyeva laughed. "We shall see soon enough, Bruce. We shall see."

Alfred entered in a full tuxedo to discreetly check in on his employer and guest. He removed their consumed food dishes and refilled their glasses, all done with the same silent efficiency that Batman took out criminals with.

"But thanks for having this meal with me too before we do that battling," said Bruce.

"Not at all. I thought it was quite civil of you to do so. It also enables us to study each other closely before our game, does it not?"

"Indeed it does."

"Is it also true that your ancestor was a Revolutionary War general and that part of your name comes from that?"

Bruce nodded. "Yes. Mad Anthony Wayne. He was considered one of Washington's greatest commanders."

"Then perhaps you inherited his ability for strategic ingenuity."

"Maybe."

"Modesty? From Bruce Wayne? Am I gaining ground over you now, sir?"

Bruce gave a confident grin. "Not in the slightest."

"I see. And your other ancestor was a prominent municipal judge?"

"Yes. Solomon Malachi Wayne. He was also instrumental in developing Gotham's 19th century economic infrastructure."

"Mm. Your lineage is very libertarian, isn't it?"

Bruce nodded. "Proudly so."

"Are you of the same political vein?"

"For the most part."

"Are you antigovernment then?"

"No. We need governments and we need rules for general peace and order. Where authority becomes problematic is when corruption dominates its rank and file. When government does only the basics needed then it does its job."

"You know of my political beliefs?"

Bruce nodded, turning his wine glass atop the table. "Of course. You're an ardent socialist, but not of the Leninist school of thought as many mistake you for being."

"That's right. I'm a Marxist, Bruce, and a damned proud one. That's not the same thing as being pro-Soviet."

"I know. They stereotype you into that category because you're Russian."

"Yes, and it's damned annoying."

"It's ignorance, Vladimir. Don't let it get to you."

"The Soviets were sadistic bastards that raped and pillaged our country for their own militaristic greed and power. What they promised the people was nothing more than a lie to prey upon their social hopes. It's the worst kind of hypocrisy. And this so-called reformed Russia isn't much better either."

"Well, pure capitalism doesn't work either," said Bruce. Orazbeyeva gave him a surprised look. Bruce nodded. "I know – who would have thought that of me, right? But the honest truth was that I was born into money, Vladimir. The Waynes are old money – dating back to the seventeenth century. We haven't had to earn anything in forever."

"Then what are your views on economic equalization?"

"I'm all for it."

"Really?"

"Yes. I may not be a bona fide socialist at heart, but I'm definitely a humanist, and I think humanism is better than both capitalism and communism put together. It's the one ideology that bridges the gaps and draws upon the best from every philosophy for not only human progress but human evolution."

"I must admit, Bruce, you continually surprise me. I hope your gameplay is equally as unpredictable."

"Let's hope so, Vladimir. We've been keeping the world in bated breath for long enough. It's time to change that."

"Agreed."

What Bruce truly hoped was that Orazbeyeva, a man he did admire and respect despite their different views, was in fact not part of something more sinister. If he was, then many other influential world people were too. And if they were, Bruce would bring the Dark Knight down hard upon them. For this global secret society that he had been investigating was linked to human rights atrocities around the world, making them all war criminals. And as Batman fought crime globally as well, Bruce would bring them all to stand before the world court, just as he'd always done in Gotham at the city level.

In Professor Orazbeyeva's case, Bruce hoped that he was wrong. But if he had to spend his entire fortune to bring them all down, he would. For to Bruce (and unlike his fellow socialites and aristocrats), his wealth and image were only a means to an end, and that end was always the same: universal justice.


End file.
